No Seder 

Rav Baruch Frydman-Kohl 

Shabbat Hagadol 5784 

Kehillat Beth Israel, Ottawa 

 

This Pesah there will not be seder. Seder means order.  

Consider what is b’seder and what is not b’seder in your lives as we enter Pesah.  

 What is b’seder in Israel? Some snapshots. 

  • Cafes and restaurants in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Haifa are b’seder, full. But vacant, not b’seder in Sderot and Metulla. 
  • Malls in the large cities are b’seder, with Arab men and women shopping alongside Jews; but the stores in Netivot and Qiryat Shemoneh are empty. Not b’seder. 
  • My 12 year old granddaughter goes out after Shabbat dinner to her youth group and returns home alone at 11pm; b’seder 
  • 3 different families lived temporarily in our apartment; they were among the 130,000 Israelis displaced from their homes in the Gaza border communities or along the northern border, unsafe, still not knowing when and how they will return; not b’seder. 
  • A friend  volunteers every Thursday to harvest fruits and vegetables. B’seder. She does so because of the dearth of foreign agricultural workers; Not b’seder. 
  • A member of the British House of Lords joins us for Shabbat lunch. B’seder. But she is in Israel with her husband to volunteer in whatever way they can. Not b’seder. 
  • My downstairs neighbour returns from 3 months of army duty in Gaza to run, with his wife, in the Jerusalem Marathon along with 30,000 other participants. B’seder. 
  • A friend’s son returns home, after 4 months of army duty in Gaza, to his wife and 4 children. He is exhausted and requires medical treatment for a persistent respiratory infection. The family is stressed, fraying a bit. Not b’seder. 
  • Josette and I sit for a leisurely lunch in Tel Aviv with cousins. B’seder. Our conversation is about their daughter, Eden, who was killed by Hamas as she fulfilled her responsibilities to defend her recruits and their base. Not b’seder. 
  • A woman laughs at a joke by the speaker in shul. B’seder.  Her son, Hayim, was killed in his home during the attacks of October 7, 2023. Not b’seder. 
  • I attend a conference about Israel-Diaspora relations in the beautiful new building of the National Library of Israel. B’seder. One of the speakers, Rachel Polen-Goldberg, pleads to not forget her son, Hersh, and the other hostages. Not b’seder. 
  • It is a beautiful, warm day in Tel Aviv and we visit the Art Museum. B’seder. Just outside the museum, is Hostage Square, where I meet with the family of a young man who is still held as hostage in Gaza after more than 6 months. Not b’seder 
  • My cousin a lone soldier, comes for Shabbat and brings his friend, a Muslim soldier from Umm al-Fahm. My son arrives after Shabbat services. Each one carefully places an assault rifle in the upper cabinet. Not b’seder. 
  • My grandchildren cuddle with their parents. B’seder. They are in their bomb shelter while missiles from Iran are in the air to attack Israel. Not b’seder. 

What can be b’seder at a time when so much is not b’seder? 

My friend, Danny Brom, who often serves as gabbai in our Jerusalem congregation, is an internationally recognized psychologist who specializes in trauma treatment. Recently, he spoke about how the Seder evening helps us to navigate what is not b’seder, “to process all things that we, as people, have gone through.  We treat ancient trauma as well as the traumas that strike us in every generation, including our own.” 

 He explains:  “Trauma treatment requires one to process and internalize the fact that a traumatic event occurred in a frightening and uncontrollable way. People who have experienced trauma need to actively face the memories and consequences of the event. Paradoxically, only when they fully accept that the event happened they can also accept that it is now over.” 

“[While] there are many different treatment methods, all have one thing in common: They aspire to create some [seder], order out of the chaos to find and create continuity and meaning in the events and to find a safe place for them in the persons life story and personal identity.” 

Danny explains: the Pesah Seder “contains essential elements of modern-day trauma treatment…. it is a social occasion. Being able to feel safe with other people is one of the most important contributors to mental health.” 

“Second, we use our physical senses to connect with the traumatic experience. As the maror burns our tongues and the salt water drips from the karpas to our mouths, we taste the bitterness of slavery and feel the tears our ancestors shed. We … process the trauma anew.” 

“Finally, we tell the story of the Exodus to find its meaning, not just for the Jewish people as a whole, but for us as individuals. The Torah commands us to put ourselves into the story: ‘And you shall tell your child on that day, saying: It is because of that which God did for me when I came forth out of Egypt” (Exodus 13:8).   

“Through putting oneself into this journey, one approaches the main negative feeling in the traumatic history shame, failure, dread, helplessness and guilt and gradually changes them to broader and deeper meanings that can be used as the basis for hope and personal growth out of the darkness.” 

October 7th and the war against Hamas have created a situation that is familiar and new at the same time. Metiv, the Israel Psychotrauma Center that Danny directs, has been dealing with trauma in Israel for the past 30 years. Last Yom Kippur, I suggested that Ottawa host a group of former soldiers as part of the Peace of Mind program. Yet, the brutality and cruelty of the attacks, the massive call up of reserves, and the way modern media overwhelms us with the sights and sounds of violence “have created unprecedented levels of mental distress.” 

As you prepare for your Seder, I invite you to remember the past and reflect on the present, to bring an awareness of the hostages and many others who are not b’seder, and to spill out some wine for the many civilians killed in Gaza during the just war against Hamas. As you eat the matzah that reminds us of our liberation, let it also be lehem oni, the bread of affliction, oppression and pain that our people has experienced in many other places and times, and this year.  

Shabbat Hagadol takes its name from the haftarah of today.  Malakhi, the last of the Biblical prophets, lived after the Babylonia exile and the reconstruction and dedication of Jewish life in the Land of Israel. B’seder. But the prophet sees a corrupt leadership and a traumatized society. Life is not b’seder. Still, he anticipates a redemptive moment with two elements: “A great and terrible day of the Eternal,  יוֹם ה הַגָּדוֹל וְהַנּוֹרָא,” and a hoped for opportunity for growth and reconciliation,  “וְהֵשִׁיב לֵבאָבוֹת עַלבָּנִים, וְלֵב בָּנִים עַלאֲבוֹתָם 

This has been a great and terrible year. As we gather with family and friends, let our Seder become an opportunity for reflection on our lives here in Canada, the processing of historic pain and contemporary antisemitism, and consideration of how to transform the trauma of what is not b’seder into a determined seder for growth and renewal.